Light
by wordsalad0286
Summary: A closer look at one lazy Saturday morning in Brock and Reba's bedroom. / Pre-divorce.


"That tickles."

Reba moved and raised her head from Brock's stomach as she gave her husband a sleepy pout - smile was obvious at the corner of her lips.

She hated it when he would wake her up at an ungodly hour. Reba was adamant in her argument that the weekends were for sleeping in and extra cuddle time before 10 in the morning; before the kids were up and running - before they both stop being Brock and Reba, and switched to being _dad_ and _mom_ again.

Brock had never been an early riser himself - he hadn't been since the redhead had planted ideas in his head. It was also hard to get out of bed when he had a _koala_ sleepin' next to him. She was his redhead koala, Brock snickered at the thought.

"I can hear you thinking - it's too loud," Reba complained, her voice muffled as her left hand traveled the expanse of Brock's belly, then down to his hip.

Brock quietly chuckled, then held his wife close - closer to him, until he felt her nose nudged him. He could feel the trace of her smile as she planted a peck on his skin.

She was wearing her favorite Mickey Mouse pyjamas - not too shabby for an adult who still thought French fries were great breakfast food, though only when the kids were not around, albeit it's an occurence that's became far and fewer between.

He traced the freckles that painted Reba's back which became visible when she made herself more comfortable on Brock's embrace. The constellations of small red and brown dots gently mapped her soft and sort of perfumed skin, with a scent that was uniquely hers - and it's not the new fabric conditioner she insisted that they try or the trusted brand of detergent her family had used since she was in gradeschool, or so she said. It was a scent Brock would recognize anywhere, and he'd hate for her to lose it.

"Why are you starin'?" Reba mumbled, as she lifted her head to look at her husband.

Brock thought it was hard not to stare, not when his wife's eyes were merely reduced to slits at almost eight in the morning and were dreamily gazing back at him with a glint of lighthearted breeze.

Brock was looking for a word, a word to describe the feeling that had always engulfed him on certain moments - if not always - of his life with Reba. Like the first time he saw her ... and that time when they ran across the restaurant parking lot where they used to work, soaking wet but were laughing their hearts out ... those two fateful days when Reba said _'yes'_ and _'I_ _do_. _' ..._ and that day when Reba told him his going to be a father ... and the first time-as well as the other two-when he smiled at his wife as tears poured down his face, feeling so proud of her for bearin' through the pain of giving birth to their beautiful children.

 _What was the word?_

Brock continued to wonder what was the word he was lookin' for as he planted a soft kiss on Reba's head, hearing his wife sigh with contentment. He was looking for the best word to describe when Reba's unguarded and wearing Mickey Mouse pyjamas, her right arm under her pillow, her left hand intertwined with his, and they couldn't tell which limb belonged to who; like they were a giant pretzel, or a Mobius strip because her contour worked well against the morning light chasing the shadows climbing the corners of their bedroom.

"How can I not?" Brock whispered as he looked down at Reba and smiled at her. Reba opened her eyes a little bigger and quirked her eyebrows, but smiled back at her husband after a second. She shook her head in amusement as her left hand softly caressed Brock's cheek, probably wanting to slap him playfully, but decided against it in the end.

Reba took a deep breath and burrowed herself further into her husband. She adjusted her pillow - which was Brock's arm - as the fingers on her left hand softly drew nonsensical patterns on her husband's neck. Goosebumps broke on Brock's skin from his wife's caress; he could feel Reba's steady heartbeat against his side.

Brock adjusted and slowly untangled himself from his wife, but just enough so his nose could lovingly brush against Reba's cheek. He then moved lower until his lips were caressing Reba's neck. He took a deep breath, trying to memorize her scent, letting it engulf his senses as he closed his eyes. His right hand played with Reba's left as Brock breathed in deeper; he peppered her neck, her jawline, her cheek, and her chin with soft kisses.

Reba looked at him and smiled mischievously, and Brock took that opportunity to kiss her eyes and nose. He rubbed his nose against hers, feeling nothing but contentment. Another set of goosebumps traveled along Brock's arm as their duvet slightly slipped off and a soft, cold breeze made contact with his skin.

Reba opened her eyes once more and stared at her husband. Sometimes he could be the sweetest man; she would always utter a fervent prayer to thank God, once again, for bringing him into her life.

Brock smiled back at his wife, as he lifted the redhead's left hand and brought each fingertip, each knuckle to his lips. He didn't always get to tell her how much he appreciated everything his wife did at home and at the dental office, but he hope that moments like this, his modest actions would suffice - to show Reba how grateful he was for every little thing she did on a daily basis. He turned Reba's palm and rubbed his nose against it before he softly planted a kiss on it.

Reba thumbed Brock's lower lip, nudged him up, and finally planted a proper good morning kiss on his lips. It was their first kiss of the day, and Brock was already looking forward to all the others that he was sure he would get as their day progressed - as the rest of their days progressed.

Brock gripped her tighter, his arms around her waist, as her left arm was wrapped around Brock's shoulder.

The couple burrowed further into the sheets, as Brock found his head on the crook of Reba's neck - his favorite sleeping place.

He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly - he was certain his breath was tickling his wife, but he knew she loved it anyway.

The couple both gave in to the slow daze of their Saturday and the _burden_ of staying in bed for a couple more hours.

 _Home_. Brock thought to himself, as his consciousness was getting lulled back into sleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of Reba's rib.

The word he was looking for was home. Reba was home.


End file.
